


Room Seven

by ladyflowdi



Series: The Room(s) Where It Happened [10]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Dildos, Episode: s04e12 Singles Week, Lace Panties, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Sex Motel Series, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyflowdi/pseuds/ladyflowdi
Summary: Patrick loves this motel, much more than he’ll ever say out loud. Thousands of people have slept and fucked and laughed and cried in these rooms. He feels a funny sort of peace, knowing that the story of how he and David fell in love will live between these walls, too.This is the tenth installment of the Sex Motel series, and takes place the night before 4.12Singles Week.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: The Room(s) Where It Happened [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644181
Comments: 72
Kudos: 383





	Room Seven

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [kiranerys42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranerys42/pseuds/kiranerys42) and [DisgruntledPelican](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisgruntledPelican/pseuds/DisgruntledPelican) for betaing, wrangling my love of run-on sentences and injecting 95% more tenderness. You both are beautiful and amazing and I can’t thank you enough. Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> And finally, a nose boop of love to my Rosebuddies for all the encouragement and lube puns. Y’all bring me up when I’m down just by being your gorgeous, talented selves. I’m so, so excited to be writing with you.

“You did what,” Patrick says, staring at his beautiful, and yet no less dead to him, boyfriend.

“Don’t be mad,” David says, smiling that little crooked smile of his, like being cute will let him get away with the travesty he’s committed. He’s right nine times out of ten, but Patrick thinks that this time he may need to stand his ground. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“You decided to consign artisanal lube.”

“I did.”

Patrick stares at him over the tiny bottles. “The artisanal lube is called ‘Lube Me Tender’.”

With a dreamy sigh David picks up one of the bottles, unscrewing the top and sniffing it delicately. “This one is, yes. It’s water-based, so it’s safe for toys, rubber and latex, and it’s made with organic aloe vera and flax extract, which are beneficial for mucous membranes –”

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘mucous membranes’?”

“–and it’s completely hypoallergenic and pH balanced for vaginal sex.” David corks the bottle with the pad of his finger and turns it over once, just enough to get a little of the product out, and Patrick’s brain short circuits.

David is blah blah blahing about _shorter shelf life than commercial lubes_ and _Singles Week,_ but Patrick can barely hear him over the klaxons going off in his head. He should have kept his mouth shut, because David is rubbing his fingers together with the same gentle precision he uses when Patrick is on his back, panting and drooling, legs spread as far as they’ll go because he’s so desperate for cock he’ll do anything, _anything_ , to get David inside him. Patrick can almost feel those long fingers, the sense-memory of the way those big knuckles stretch the tender rim of his hole, the way David curls each finger separately, and then all together, glancing over Patrick’s prostate in gentle, teasing touches.

He’s getting hard. In the _middle of their store,_ in the _middle of the morning_.

David twists the knife with merciless ease. “Hyram and Lois make anal lube, too.”

Patrick goes hot, he can _feel_ himself blush. He glances up at the front door, then back at David, whose lips have turned up at the corners because David absolutely knows what he’s doing. His boyfriend is a monster who moonlights as a sexual deviant. “Do they?

“Mm-hm,” David says, and plucks a larger jar from the forest of lube in front of them, with a temporary white label that reads _Lube Will Keep Us Together._ “It’s all organic based, so there’s no glycerin or propylene glycol, which can damage anal tissues.” He beams at the little bottle in his hand. “ _And_ it’s pH neutral, which is best for the microflora in the rectum.”

There are days when he feels like he has a solid grasp of sex with David, that he’s finally reached some kind of plateau where things don’t always feel so new to him anymore, and then David says words like ‘pH neutral’ and ‘microflora’ and he finds himself at square one again. It must show on his face because some of David’s impish glee bleeds out of his expression, and he reaches for Patrick’s hand over the box of bottles. “Hey. Are you upset about this? I know I should have asked you first, but Hyram and Lois are adorable hippies doing the lord’s work, and it seemed like the perfect product to have for sale during Singles Week.”

“No, it’s a smart business decision,” Patrick says, trying for a smile. “I just didn’t know, uh. About this. That there are different types of lubes out there for different things.”

David frowns like he always does when Patrick says something he qualifies as being desperately sad. “What do you mean?”

Patrick jerks his shoulder and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t really use lube, until I met you.”

If Patrick had said that he was a CIA agent moonlighting as a small-town business owner to get close to the Rose family, David probably would have been less shocked. “What?”

“I mean,” and at this Patrick squirms, because this is not a conversation they should be having in the middle of the store at eleven in the morning. “Never mind. We should talk about it later.”

“No, we should talk about it now. You never used lube before me?”

Patrick shakes his head. “I mean, I’ve used it, but not regularly? Rachel was always really – and you know how I get. We never needed it,” and he grimaces because _God_ Brewer, look at your life, look at your _choices_. “And I just use whatever, when I. You know.”

“Masturbate.”

David is looking at him so frankly, and Patrick wishes he didn’t still squirm like a fish at the word. “Yeah.”

“And now?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you masturbate. Are you still using like, fucking Vaseline or something?”

That his boyfriend is offended on his dick’s behalf should be hilarious. “Not sure what answer you want here, David.”

“Oh my God,” and David smacks a hand to his face, then over his eyes, as if the very sight of him is too much to bear. “You’re not serious, Patrick. Are you jerking off like a sweaty fifteen-year-old with _hand lotion_?”

They’ve rounded the bases and it’s back to being funny now. “Excuse me, my Lubriderm is both an aftershave _as_ _well_ as a lotion.”

“Lubriderm is not made for penises, it’s made for dry elbows and that scaly patch on the back of your thigh you refuse to admit to,” David says, hand on his hip.

“Then you don’t want to hear about my misuse of the sandalwood and vanilla conditioner we sell either, huh.”

The look on David’s face is, _chefs kiss,_ delicious. He’s so offended by everything Patrick just said that he’s literally speechless. Patrick grins brightly.

“ _No_.”

“Yes,” Patrick says. “Twice. It was super hot. Literally.”

“Oh my God,” David says, throwing his hands in the air, and almost sending the entire box of lube sailing across the store. Luckily Patrick has an MBA in Flailing David, and snatches the box before they have to replace one of the front window panes again. “This is a travesty of a situation. You deserve to have beautiful, slick, slippery sex, to enjoy the full spectrum of sex accessories out there.”

Patrick makes a face. “I don’t like sex accessories.”

“Have you ever _tried_ sex accessories?”

“No, but – ”

“But nothing, you can’t have opinions on things you haven’t even tried,” David says, plucking three more bottles out of the box. “My God, I’m getting a bird’s-eye view into what your childhood must have been like. Your poor mother.”

“Can we _not_ talk about my mom while also talking about sex lube,” Patrick says, squinching his eyes shut. “Also, I thought you said – and I quote – that I get ‘wet as a girl’. If we’re following that thread, my Lubriderm choice is just fiscally responsible. I can assume this artisanal hippy lube is not.”

“We’re charging twenty-six for it.”

Patrick blinks.

David grins.

“Dollars?”

“No, we’re bartering for yaks now, we’re getting into the yak milk business,” David says, but he’s smiling so much that the sass doesn’t exactly hit the mark. He comes around the counter and Patrick sways back a little bit, because David’s never quite that smug unless he’s got a Plan. David’s Plans usually involve orgasms that have been known to make Patrick black out. “Also, while you do get wet as a girl – which, can I say, is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen – lube is an essential part of good sex. My lube game is strong, honey. Trust in the lube game.”

There are times when the physicality of David’s body scares the ever-living shit out of him. When David looms over him like this, when he uses the two inches he has on Patrick to push him back against whatever surface he’s deemed appropriate for his little bit of seduction, all Patrick can think about is how much bigger David is than him. For the first time in his life Patrick is the smaller partner, and the sheer size of David’s body, and how David knows exactly how to _use_ his body, does things for him. The way David’s hands span the width of Patrick’s thighs, the way he has to lean down to kiss him, arouses Patrick so completely that it makes him sweat, makes his balls feel heavy and constricted in his jeans, makes his cock so hard that he feels the arousal like a fist in the pit of his belly, arrowed down deep between his legs.

David’s got that little smile on his face, the one he wears sometimes when he muscles his way between Patrick’s thighs, sending his knees skidding up David’s flanks – the one he wears when he grabs Patrick by the legs and pulls him down the bed when Patrick’s been fucked too close to the headboard. The one he wears when he’s got Patrick mounted like a trophy on his cock, their fingers laced as Patrick whines and pants through the discomfort, chasing the pleasure he knows is waiting for him if David would just _fuck him already_.

Jesus.

What could David do with this fancy lube, that they haven’t already been doing?

“You wanna try, honey?” David asks, and it is _extremely_ annoying how amused he is.

Patrick mutters “No,” and does not glare at him even a little bit.

David rolls his lips inward like he does when he’s trying not to laugh. This close, Patrick has to tilt his head back a little to look up at his boyfriend, and David thumbs the edge of his jaw, making him tilt his head even more. It’s stupidly hot, and he runs his hands over David’s sides, over the soft fuzz of his sweater hiding what Patrick knows are hard, strong hips that stroke into him just right. It grounds him, to touch David like this when they have these kinds of difficult conversations, and David _knows_ that. David leans down to kiss him, a little brush of his mouth that sparks down Patrick’s back like a live wire.

“Do you trust me?”

A part of him wants to go for the easy way out here, to tease David until he gets his boyfriend to roll his eyes. But the question is a loaded one this time, because David is smiling at him but there’s something there, in his expression, something behind his eyes. “You know I do.”

David’s answering smile is so sweet, so bright, so _shy_ and so filled with promise. “Book us a room, then.”

Patrick shivers from his eyebrows to his boots, because oh. _Oh._

“So long as you never say ‘microflora’ again,” he says, because he honestly can’t help himself, and because he knows David will roll his eyes and launch into a 20-minute monologue on the importance of gut health in relation to anal sex.

He does. Patrick wishes he could say it kills his arousal completely, but at least he gets through the rest of the afternoon without embarrassing himself.

.

They’ve stayed at the Sherwood Motel so many times at this point in their relationship that the front desk staff member, Betty, doesn’t even look surprised to see him anymore, when he comes into the front office to get the room key.

In another life he’d have been embarrassed, but Patrick is above all of that now. The only reason he’s still a functioning human person while going through this change in his life is the Sherwood Motel. The motel has come to signify safety to him, and intimacy, but the motel is only a safe place because David has _made it_ a safe place, where Patrick can experience what sex is supposed to be for the first time in his life.

They’ve had so many firsts here – the first time David really touched him, shaking and terrified and new, and brought him to orgasm, and held him afterward when he cried. The first time David nudged his knees apart and licked into him, and taught Patrick about how much pleasure his body could feel, _so much_ so that it rewrote everything he ever thought he wanted. The first time Patrick pressed his fingers into David’s body and held him as he trembled and shook, and the first time David fucked him and single-handedly pushed Patrick’s world off its axis.

The first time Patrick poked gently, like a tongue worrying a sore tooth, at the soft center of him where everything he feels for David lives.

Patrick loves this motel, much more than he’ll ever say out loud. Thousands of people have slept and fucked and laughed and cried in these rooms. He feels a funny sort of peace, knowing that the story of how he and David fell in love will live between these walls, too.

“Okay, this room is awful,” David says, locking the door behind them, but he’s smiling That Smile, his patented _let’s get sexy_ smile that is simultaneously hilarious and a direct line to Patrick’s dick. The room _is_ awful (though not as bad as the Red Room, thank God), but Patrick isn’t paying too much attention to the circa 1969 decor, or the ugly landscape painting over the bed of the old windmill on Chase Hill.

David had gone back home after work and done his hair up all gorgeous, and he’s wearing his skirted pants with the slit up one thigh because he knows how much they drive Patrick crazy, and a houndstooth-print mohair sweater Patrick has been told is an Alexander McQueen. He looks like a supermodel, like he should be walking on some catwalk somewhere. He’s so beautiful, Patrick almost can’t stand to look at him. How, _how_ did he get this lucky?

David sets his overnight bag down on the other bed and wraps his arms around Patrick’s chest and gives him the tightest, sweetest, best hug he’s had in – well, since the last time David gave him the tightest, sweetest, best hug, which was yesterday. It’s somehow even better with the mohair sweater, and Patrick laughs just a little wetly into David’s neck. “It feels like I’m hugging a teddy bear.”

“Wow, we’re not unpacking _that_ tonight,” David says, and Patrick laughs again, he can’t help it. “We’re going to talk now.”

Ahh. The Conversation. It’s another first for him, not just with David, but with anyone. Patrick had been with Rachel, and a few other women when he and Rachel were broken up, and none of them had ever had an honest conversation about what they wanted.

“Okay, but we’ve gone through all the firsts already, we can probably skip it, don’t you think?” Patrick asks, as David lets him go with one last squeeze and turns away to unzip his overnight bag. Patrick sinks to the edge of the other bed with a sigh. It smells like laundry detergent and moth balls.

“The conversation makes you feel safe,” David says, rummaging around in his overnight bag for another minute before emerging, victorious, with a sleek leather bag locked by a mini luggage lock. He smiles at Patrick, that soft and sweet little thing that warms Patrick from the inside out. “It makes me feel safe, too.”

“I know,” Patrick says, somehow, around the words clambering inside of him, _I love you, I love you, I love you._

The springs on this mattress aren’t what they used to be, and when David sits next to him they slide together a little until they’re pressed thigh to thigh, hip to hip. Patrick likes it _way_ more than he should, and he’s grinning hopefully even as David rolls his eyes and turns to face him, bending his knee between them and working his keys out of his pocket at the same time.

He watches David struggle with the tiny lock because David’s hands are huge and blunt and good for holding Patrick and lifting Patrick and _touching Patrick_. What they’re not so great with are little things, so Patrick turns to face David too and tugs the bag into his own lap, taking David’s keys from him and working the tiny key into the tinier lock.

“Okay, so don’t freak out,” David says, which is all the heads-up Patrick gets because the bag is filled with sex toys.

He blurts, “What the ever-living rubber fuck,” and David cracks up, which is not a thing that happens often enough and Patrick _loves_ it, which helps with the shock a little bit because he is holding a lapful of dildos. A bag o’ dongs, if you will. He is _literally holding a sack of cocks_ , and butt plugs, and a ton of stuff he can’t identify. At the bottom there’s a rabbit, Rachel had one of those and Patrick had liked it a lot, and _what the fuck_ -

The dildo is blue and bumpy and shaped like a dick only in the strictest sense of it being a cylinder with a cock-ish head on it. “What.”

“That’s Alfonso,” David says, still snickering, and takes it from him with loving care. “He cost me a pretty little chunk of change, and he was worth every penny.”

Patrick stares at it, he can’t _not_. “And it – you’ve put this thing in your ass?”

David grins. “Mm-hm.”

“It… how does this even feel good?”

“I fell in love with Alfonso on a cold and dreary New York night,” David intones, like he’s narrating the Red Light District story of his life. “He came to me in an unmarked box, and sat on my kitchen counter for three weeks before I deigned unleash his glory. How could I have known, the delights I would experience at his bumpy blue hand?”

Patrick almost can’t speak through the laughter, but he tries. “And – and what does he even – David, he’s a tentacle. He’s a tentacle dildo.”

David gasps, affronted, and cuddles the dick to his chest like a babe in arms. “How dare you besmirch his name. Alfonso is much more than a tentacle dildo, Patrick. Alfonso is a revelation, and way too advanced for you at this juncture in your anal journey.”

Alfonso the Tentacle Dildo is huge and bumpy and blue and weirdly-shaped and Patrick should not be getting a little bit turned on by it. “My _‘anal journey’_?”

“That’s right. Alfonso is the March Madness of dildos, honey. You’re still playing street hockey with your friends.”

There is no part of David that isn’t a sheer delight. Patrick leans over the tentacle dick and kisses him, though he’s smiling so much he feels like his face will never recover. “Okay, so what’s more appropriate for my... _anal journey_?”

David sets Alfonso back in the bag with loving care before gently cupping the back of Patrick’s neck, thumb stroking along the tendon leading to his ear. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You’re my personal, David. Of course you can ask.”

The words hit their intended target. Patrick has never been able to explain to anyone the way David goes _soft_ sometimes _,_ and only those who’ve witnessed it firsthand understand what he means. He gazes at Patrick with that sweet earnestness no one believes he’s capable of, and kisses Patrick’s forehead, his cheeks, his chin. “You don’t have to answer, okay?”

“No, I’ve never watched tentacle porn, though not for lack of choice. Just never saw the appeal.”

David rolls his lips inwards, trying desperately not to laugh. “Can we just have _one_ serious discussion without sass.”

“I’m a sassy kind of guy,” Patrick says, leaning in to kiss that funny, beautiful mouth. “That would be like asking me to rewrite my whole personality, and I’ve got it on good authority that you like my personality.”

“I do, I really do – also, you can’t deflect away from The Conversation,” David says, though he scritches his fingers through the hair at the nape of Patrick’s neck and sends a shiver down his spine. “I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Patrick says, and tries to at least look attentive and not like he’d like to start tugging David’s clothes off. “Ask me.”

“Did you masturbate? When you were with Rachel?”

Oof. The question startles him, because… because no, he hadn’t. Patrick has spent the majority of his adult life hating sex. There had been times where it was painful, or humiliating, and where he thought he’d hit rock bottom, and on some unlucky nights a combination of all three. The moments of truly awful sex were weighed by the bulk of Patrick’s experience, where the sex was just mediocre, nothing to write home about, and certainly nothing to remember fondly. He’d thought for a long time that maybe he just wasn’t a sexual person, because his friends talked about sex like it was the best thing they’ve ever had, and there were some nights Patrick couldn’t even get an erection. Masturbation hadn’t even crossed his mind most of the time; when he _could_ get hard he and Rachel had sex. Wasting an erection would have been stupid, when he had so few of them to begin with.

“No,” he says softly, tipping his head to one side so David can kiss his neck. “No. Not really.”

“Okay,” David says, almost to himself, and takes a shaky breath against the skin of Patrick’s throat. “Okay. Do you, um. Do you masturbate now?”

What Patrick does now is not masturbation. What Patrick does now is fall apart thinking about David’s thighs, his ass, his mouth. Sometimes he can’t get his pants undone in time, which has contributed to not one, but _two_ extremely embarrassing laundry room conversations with Ray. _If_ he doesn’t come in his pants like a teenager, when he finally gets his fingers around his cock all it takes is one hard stroke right over the sensitive ridge of his head and Patrick goes off like fireworks. Patrick has _fallen over_ masturbating to David, like his body had unilaterally decided that knees were inconsequential accessories for standing. “That would be a yes.”

He watches, delighted, as David’s whole face lights up. “That’s it? Just, ‘yes’?”

“Are you fishing for details, David?”

“I mean, it’s only the hottest mental image you’ve ever given me, all pink and glistening and fucking your fist, who _wouldn’t_ want to hear about it.”

Sometimes, when David says things like this, Patrick gets so embarrassed he wants to crawl under a rock and hide his face. Being wanted like this is so novel when for the first time in his life _he wants back_. It’s a heady feeling, a little overwhelming, and so good he wants to wrap it around himself like a blanket and never come back up for air. “Maybe – maybe I’ll give you a show, one of these days,” he says, biting his lower lip.

“Mmm, honey, I think you’re going to be giving me a show tonight,” David says, his hands sliding down over Patrick’s arms, his wrists. “Do you finger yourself?”

Every single chance he gets. “Yeah,” he says, looking down at their hands, at the way David tangles their fingers together, playing with the thumb joint gone rough from his catcher’s mitt, the nail on his pointer finger still growing back after a whole year, because he smashed it with a hammer the week before they opened the store. “Yeah, I. At first, I was working on loosening myself up to take your – uh, you know, like you taught me. But then I started doing it because it feels so good. So now it’s – it’s almost every time.”

“And while that is a beautiful image, very – very inspirational,” and Patrick darts a look up to see David has gone all pink too, a _very_ good look for him, “what I hear you saying is that you aren’t using lube. Please don’t tell me you’re fingering yourself with Lubriderm, Patrick.”

“Then stop asking me leading questions where I admit that I finger myself with Lubriderm, David.”

The look of poorly disguised disgust that David gives him is hilarious, and he lets go of Patrick’s hands with a kiss to each palm, before digging back in the bag. He looks like a bearded Jewish Mary Poppins, searching his bottomless sex bag. “And you’ve never used a sex toy. On yourself, I mean.”

“Nope.”

“How do we feel about trying it?”

“In the general sense or in the ‘going in my ass’ sense? Because full disclosure, you’ve got a bag of cocks and I want to try every single one of them.”

“I _know_ , they’re gorgeous,” David gushes, and beams at him, holding one up that looks like it’s made of glass. There are dark red and blue swirls at the base of it, but the end is crystal clear, and so smooth it’s almost transparent. “Let me introduce you to Ms. Josephine. Like Alfonso, she is not intended for the anal play novice. She warms up quickly and traps heat, so she starts out nice and cool and soothing, but by the end it feels like you’re getting fucked by fire.”

Patrick stares at the glass. “And that feels good?”

“Oh yes. It’s not advisable to invite Ms. Josephine to your bed all the time, because it’s so intense, but when she’s there she’s the star of the show.”

“Have, uh,” and Patrick is not going to laugh, he just isn’t. “Have you named _all_ of your dildos?”

“Of course, what kind of monster doesn’t? Oh, this is Jimmy,” and David pulls out a plug that’s at least four inches wide. “He’s a blunt instrument, old Jimmy. He’s my go-to in preparing for fisting.”

Patrick’s brain stutters and trips over the words.

“Fisting? You – ”

“I was very adventurous in my youth, a bygone era before groin strains were a thing in my life,” David replies with the appropriate amount of gravitas, rummaging in his bag like he has no idea what he’s just done to Patrick. Patrick has it on good authority that David _always_ knows what he does to him. “It inflates, and before you ask, yes, it feels _incredible_ , both Jimmy and fisting. Where the hell – oh! Here he is,” and David pulls out the weirdest looking sex toy Patrick has ever seen. It can only be called a dildo in the strictest sense, because it could also serve as a paper weight. Patrick honestly has no idea what he’s looking at or what it could be for, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that David has been fisted before and _likes it_. The dildo is black and wavy and curved like a U, with a strange bottom that kind of looks like a blown-up version of the rabbit he and Rachel used years ago. It’s small, maybe four inches long if that.

“I’d like to introduce you to Tomo,” David says, gazing down at the little black dildo with reverence. “He’s going to blow your mind.”

Patrick wrinkles his nose. David’s cock is twice as big as this thing, and Patrick has _taken_ David’s cock. This dildo is going to feel like a drop in the bucket by comparison. “What is it?”

David hands him the dildo and digs into his bag again, presumably for the artisanal hippy lube. “That little guy is a prostate massager.”

He frowns down at the little dildo. It’s got some give to it, though not much, and it’s coated in some sort of material that makes it almost velvety to the touch. There are two buttons on the bottom, one of which is the power button, plus a port to plug it in for charging because apparently this is a _fancy_ dildo.

He doesn’t know what he expects when he hits the power button, but the intensity with which it starts to vibrate almost makes him drop it.

“That’s what the sex toy industry calls the ‘ _come hither_ ’,” David says, while Patrick stares down at the thing and feels every second of his life _to date_ coalesce into this singular moment.

He’s laughing before he can stop himself, deep-down from his gut, and he hears David laughing too but Patrick hasn’t cracked up quite like this in years and he can’t breathe because _what is his life_. The little dildo makes a tiny mechanical _grrp_ noise and Patrick is _dying_ , and David takes it from him because Patrick has literally collapsed backwards on the bed, tears streaming down his face.

It takes a long time to finally stop giggling – then a little longer to finally stop giggling whenever he glances at David, sprawled out next to him and beaming with joy. Patrick has never been so in love in his entire life, and he takes that gorgeous face in hand and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him some more, smiling all the while. “I’m so happy,” he sighs, and David melts just like Patrick knew he would, and then they’re doing the awkward cuddle thing they do sometimes because they both want to be the huggee and not the hugger. Patrick giggles into David’s neck and David presses kisses to the side of his head, and between them the little dildo goes _grrp_ again and Patrick chokes because it’s _hilarious_.

“Are you done?” David asks, but he’s smiling when he pulls back, and runs his fingers just right along the back of his head.

“This is the best night ever,” but that’s a lie. _Every_ night is good with David. “This is great. You’re great. I swear I won’t laugh more than four more times.”

“Such a liar,” David says, grinning, and presses another kiss to his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “You sure you want to continue?”

Patrick beams at him. “You promised me the world.”

“I promised you a mind-blowing orgasm and a plastic cock you may or may not be ready for,” David says, sweeping said plastic cocks back into the bag after they fell out during Patrick’s giggle fit. “Hit the button again.”

Patrick picks up the little vibrating thing and wonders why, with so many toys to choose from, David gave him a toy this small and this uninspiring. “Your cock is bigger.”

“Yup,” David says. “Wait, how much bigger?”

“You’ve got a huge schlong, baby,” Patrick says, just to watch David cringe from his soul. He hits the button and the little dildo starts to – and he can’t even believe this is the appropriate word – _gyrate_. “How does this thing even work?”

“How do you think it works?”

“One side goes, um.”

“Inside your ass, yes. That’s the hithering,” David says, getting up to put the bag o’ dongs on the other bed. The view from this angle is pretty spectacular, because David’s pulled out all the stops tonight and the skirt can’t hide the swell of his ass, the width and strength of his thighs.

He can almost imagine what this is going to feel like. Almost.

“What about the other side? What’s it for?”

The look his boyfriend gives him lights him up from the inside. “I’m going to teach you.”

 _Oh_. “You are?”

“Mm-hm,” David murmurs, and nudges Patrick’s knee open a bit so he can step in close between his legs, like it’s his place, like if Patrick won’t make room for him, David will. He can _smell_ David, his cologne and his sweat and the first hints of his arousal, because David’s cock is right there, buried under so much fabric, and Patrick wants to get under his skirt so badly that his fingers clench in the bed covers. “Do you want to learn how good this can feel?”

“Yes,” Patrick says, and has to clear his throat, staring up at his boyfriend. “Yes, David. I want to learn.”

David runs his fingers so gently through Patrick’s hair, scritching and scratching through the short hairs around his ears. “This is what we’re going to do. You’re going to get on your knees and suck me for a little bit, because I know how much you like that.”

Patrick _loves_ sucking cock. He licks his lips, just to make David’s eyes drop down to his mouth. “Okay.”

“You’re going to get really hot from that, honey.”

Yeah he is. “I know.”

“We’re probably going to have to take the edge off.”

Ugh. Patrick hates when they have to do that, but Patrick’s body is also making up for literal years of denial, so he understands David’s rational. Coming as a mechanism to manage his frantic need is better than the alternative, which is coming in his pants. Which he has done, a lot, since he met David. _Embarrassing_.

“Okay,” he says, a little sullenly, and David grins.

“Once you’re ready, I’m going to finger you for a little bit with this amazing lube.”

“I really like it when you finger me,” Patrick says softly, because these things are hard to talk about, but he’s learned the hard way that David won’t continue if he doesn’t.

“I know you do. I’m going to open you up until you’re pink and soft, and then I’m going to massage your prostate, from the inside and from the outside.”

All the hair on Patrick’s body stands on end. The edging – the edging had been good. His prostate had been so _sensitive_ , and David had been merciless in his technique, getting him closer and closer before pulling back. He’d felt so swollen inside, so ready to come, so ready to _fuck_ , and just thinking about David pressing his fingers inside of him again, doing that to him again, is enough to make him shiver. “From, uh. From the outside?”

“Yes. And once you’re all sensitive and wet, I’m going to push Tomo into you and you’re going to squeeze down on him, and honey, you’re going to have the most intense orgasm of your life.”

David is a man of his word, has been since the day Patrick met him. If David says he’s going to have the most intense orgasm of his life, then Patrick believes him. “That sounds really hot, and also kind of terrifying,” he says, because he also knows David needs to hear how he’s feeling, and Patrick needs to tell him.

“I know,” David says, smiling at him with such pride, such care. He cups Patrick’s face in both hands and leans down to kiss him, and Patrick’s heart can’t take this, it’s too much. “I’m going to be right here every step of the way.”

There have been a lot of firsts with David, but Patrick still has so much to learn about intimacy, about caring, about partnership. He’s in a bedroom about to have sex and he doesn’t feel scared, or alone, because David is here with him, holding him up and supporting him. “Okay,” he says, softly, and clutches David’s sleeve for a second, pulling him back down for another kiss.

“Okay,” David replies just as softly, and pushes his lips to the side of his mouth like he does sometimes when Patrick has done something amazing. Like he’s trying not to smile and can’t help himself.

There’s a beat of silence for a second, where they gaze at each other like idiots.

“Can I suck your cock now?”

Jackpot – David’s turn to crack up, and Patrick grins and stands and pushes the mohair sweater up, up, up, nudging David backwards with his hips just enough so he can (carefully) yank the sweater over David’s head. It probably cost more than Patrick’s car, but he doesn’t care much because David in his undershirt, with his nipples all pebbled and his biceps and the hair on his arms, is so gorgeous it hurts to look at him.

The kissing is good – the kissing is _fantastic_. David knows how to work him over, how to use his whole body in his one-man crusade to kiss Patrick senseless. It’s heat and urgency and _gorgeous_ , how David kisses him, how his big hands slide over Patrick’s body like they own him and they do, oh God, Patrick wants those hands all over him every moment of every day. The way they run over his shoulders, down the small of his back, and squeeze over his ass makes him jump every single time, and David _grins_ into his mouth like a little shit, and Patrick gets his own back by nipping sharply at David’s tongue. It makes David laugh because David _is the worst_.

David drops his mouth to Patrick’s neck and clothes start to come off in a hurry. His belt buckle bangs the top of his foot, and David almost falls over when he shoves Patrick down onto the bed and works his pants down. The urgency to get each other naked always makes Patrick laugh, and he’s giggling nonstop as David yells, “These stupid pants!” because they’re so fucking sexy but they take an engineering degree to get off, and Patrick is outright _laughing_ as David growls and paws at the hidden clasps, sex-clumsy and shaking.

He pushes David back a step and falls to his knees, his own jeans bunched in the hollow of one knee because he only managed to get one leg off. He _knows_ these skirted pants, he’s been in these pants a lot, and his fingers are much more nimble because they’re smaller because _Patrick is smaller than David_ , and he gulps air and if he doesn’t get his mouth on David’s cock in the next five seconds he’s going to lose it.

“Stop, move,” he commands, and David groans like he’s dying, which is legitimate because Patrick is on his knees in front of him and David taught him how to suck his cock just the way he likes, tailor-made cocksucker right here and David says, “Stop it, stop saying sexy things,” and Patrick says, “But I _am_ though,” and David throws his head back like he can’t look at him.

“Do _not_ come in your pants, David, that’s my thing,” Patrick says as calmly as possible, and David moans again and ugh, _ugh_. He fumbles with the clasps one last time and finally, hallelujah, he shoves the pants and skirt down.

Oh.

David says, “I’m thinking I should have probably warned you,” but Patrick’s entire brain has gone completely offline because David is wearing panties.

Correction.

David is wearing floral, black, _sheer_ panties.

Patrick prides himself on being pretty sharp. He’s got a degree in business management. He graduated cum laude. He has a diverse investment portfolio, paid off his car a year and a half early, and follows a strict monthly budget. And right now, at this moment, Patrick would bankrupt himself if he knew that he could keep David in sheer lace panties for the rest of his life.

They’re almost completely translucent, for all that they’re embroidered with black flowers that look not unlike David’s Givenchy sweaters. That’s all they are, these panties, just a few scraps of sheer fabric embroidered with black roses and thorns, in artistic arrangements meant to accentuate the size of his balls, the length of his cock.

David is wearing black lace and his cock is shiny at the tip and it’s wetting his pretty black panties and Patrick sucks in a sharp breath and smells David’s arousal, the scent of cock and man and precome and _oh, Jesus_.

He is _reverent_ as he pushes David’s pants the rest of the way down, fingers fumbling blindly with David’s hightops because he can’t take his eyes off the present in front of him. He darts his gaze up to David and David is full-on blushing and oh. _Oh_.

“You’re – you’re wearing panties.”

“They’re not panties,” David says, helping him by toeing out of his hightop, as Patrick’s fingers make a mess of the knot on the other. “Okay, they are, but more accurately, they’re men’s lingerie. I figured if we were going to be doing lube play and sex toys, you needed the full kink experience.”

The full kink experience being men’s lace lingerie.

The band says _DSquared2,_ and Patrick isn’t stupid, these panties probably cost a small fortune, but in that moment Patrick is so grateful to the fashion designer who created this masterpiece that he could cry. The black floral lace hugs David’s hips like they were made for him, and oh God, they _might have been,_ there’s no other explanation for how this looks right now. The swell of his balls fills them out like someone got David hot and then sewed these panties to accentuate every curve. They’re a love story all their own, and Patrick can’t help burying his face in them, breathing in the scent of sweat and come and _David_.

His boyfriend moans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, and Patrick can’t stop, he _can’t_ , he’s nuzzling into the heavy swell and then licking over the lace flowers, and David makes a sound he’s never heard before and Patrick wants to live here, his face pressed to these balls that give him so much pleasure. David is murmuring his name and Patrick sets his chin there on that gorgeous lace, on David’s _cock,_ and looks up at his boyfriend. “I’m so gay, David.”

It’s the right move. The smile that comes over David’s face is like the rising sun, his eyes bright and dancing and laughing. “I know.”

“Like. So gay. _So gay_.”

“Lucky me,” David murmurs, and strokes his thumb over Patrick’s lower lip, his other hand gentle at the back of his neck. “What do you want?”

“I want _all of it_.”

“That’s a lot. Start with one thing.”

“I want to suck you. I want to pull these panties down and put your cock in my mouth.”

“Doable. What else?”

“I – I want you to put that toy in me. I want to get so messy and wet and I want you to fuck me, David. I want you to fuck me and make me scream and I want you to do it wearing these panties,” and oh, Patrick hadn’t known he wanted all that until this very moment but yes. _Yes_.

“Also doable,” David says, and tightens his fingers in Patrick’s hair, right at the base of his neck, and _his eyes,_ Patrick has seen David turned on, but this, right now, is at a whole other level.

David is leaking into his pretty floral lace panties. David is breathing like he’s run a marathon. From here, on his knees, all Patrick can see is lace and chest hair and pebbled nipples and the cut of David’s hips and his belly, padded and hard and strong and capable of fucking Patrick’s brains out. It is _extremely_ inspiring, and Patrick can’t quite believe that David is his, that he was lucky enough to meet this perfect and funny and smart and gorgeous man. Being with David feels like all his Christmases came at once.

David is grinning at him, and Patrick knows he looks like an idiot because David has told him that he gets cock drunk sometimes, but it just feels so good, it feels _so fucking good_ and he can’t help rubbing his cheek along that big dick, knowing that before the night is over David’s going to use it to tear him apart. He kisses all along the lace, gone translucent and pretty where David is so wet, and David says, “Why don’t you pull the band down a little bit? Get my cock out.”

 _Yes_. Patrick licks his lips and does it, so carefully, because the last thing he wants is to tear the lace. David’s cock is so big, as big as the rest of him, and he peppers kisses all along that weeping head. The swell of love in him is so big that he almost blurts it out, right there on his knees with one pant leg still on, just because David gives him this. He wraps his arms around David’s hips and squeezes him into a hug, and David is laughing and rubbing behind his ears again and bending down to kiss the top of Patrick’s head. “You like it?”

“I like it _so much_ ,” he mumbles, muffled into David’s belly. “Can I suck you?”

“Of course you can,” David says, and when Patrick lifts up enough to look at him David smiles, hearts in his damn eyes. “Go ahead, honey. Get it in your mouth and fill yourself up.”

Patrick has always been a take-charge kind of guy. It isn’t about being a control freak, though he is that at times; it’s that Patrick has spent his entire life taking the bull by the horns, especially about things that scare him, and he approaches problems with a steadfast determination to learn and grow. Cocksucking, as a skill set, had been no different.

Back in the beginning, when Patrick was new and terrified of this life he was building for himself, he’d thought about cocksucking a lot. David Rose had just come into his life asking for help with his incorporation paperwork, and for the first time some tiny part of him, ignored and forgotten, thought, _huh_. David was gorgeous, yes, because there was no denying the fact that David was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. But what drew Patrick to him was that he was funny, and earnest, and so self-aware while also somehow being completely oblivious at the same time. He hadn’t recognized the heady glee inside of him, confused by the feeling in his gut every time he saw David, the way his hands itched to touch him, to be close to him. It took Patrick almost a month to realize that what he was feeling was attraction, and by then the attraction had blown up into straight-up infatuation.

He’d been up on Rattlesnake Point when he’d admitted to himself, for the very first time, that he liked men, that he was attracted to men. That he was attracted to David Rose. And then Patrick, being the take-charge guy that he was, grabbed that bull by the horn and got on the internet.

“Remember when I was so bad at this,” Patrick says, running his lips up David’s cock, kissing along that big, pulsing vein. He’d learned a _lot_ on Pornhub, but watching a blow job while sucking frantically on your fingers was not the same as actually doing it. “Remember when I used to get overwhelmed,” he says, as he fits his mouth on that weeping head and pushes down, down, down.

“You – you used to shake,” David says, fingers tightening in the fine hairs at the back of his head, groaning. “You would tremble and I’d get so worried, but then you’d look at me like I was giving you the world. You were so happy. You still are, and – God, yes, lick right there – that used to mess me up because I’m n-not used to making people so happy.”

Yes, yes, yes. David had been so gentle, so good to him, teaching him with effortless ease how to wrap his lips around his teeth, how to use his tongue, how to use his hands. David had taught him to do this the way David liked, and it gets hotter every time he thinks about it. He really is tailor-made for David, as tailor-made as these panties, as his designer sweaters. Molded to fit around David, as much as David has unraveled all the parts of himself and been remade to fit all around Patrick.

He reaches down into his shorts and grabs the base of his cock, pinching as hard as he can stand, and David moans low above him because Patrick almost fucked it all up, and he’s gasping, panting against David’s cock, soaking wet and smearing against his cheek. “David.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” and David gets his hands under Patrick’s armpits and hoists him up to his feet, and it’s so hot _it’s so hot_ , and then they’re kissing and David is licking all of the precome out of his mouth and Patrick pinches the base of his cock again and David is _laughing at him_ and ugh.

“Shut up,” Patrick growls at him, and David helps him push his jeans off the rest of the way with the worst shit-eating grin Patrick has ever seen.

“It’s not every day that my boyfriend almost comes untouched because of some lingerie.”

“You’re wearing black lace panties,” Patrick argues, trying to make David understand.

“I know,” David hums, and cradles his face with both hands and kisses him so soundly that Patrick almost melts his way to the floor. “Did you like sucking my cock?”

“Yes,” Patrick groans, “you know I do, David, how could I not – you’re wearing black lace _panties_.”

“I have other pieces,” David says, and _blows Patrick’s mind_ , “but that’s a conversation for a future date,” and David moves around him to unceremoniously push all the bedding to the bottom of the mattress. The sheets are white and clean and smell a little bit like bleach, and Patrick has started to equate that smell with sex and David and the things they do between these sheets.

The panties are, somehow, even better from the back. The flowers accentuate not just the swell of David’s perfect ass, but the seam guides the eye right down the crack. There are flowers bunched there, down deep between David’s legs, and Patrick is breathing so fast he’s panting. He stumbles forward and drops back down to his knees, and David is _laughing_ because Patrick’s pulling those panties down to get his mouth on that ass and David says, “The lingerie, clearly a winner,” and Patrick buries his face between David’s cheeks even though the angle is awful.

“Okay, nope,” and David twists around and Patrick _whines_ as David hoists him back up and shoves him onto the bed. Patrick bounces once and squirms his way backwards on the sheets and opens his legs up as far as they’ll go. “ _Fuck me_ ,” he demands, and David’s eyes are so dark they’re almost black. His olive skin has gone all dewy and wet with sweat, and his cock, and _the panties_ , God, Patrick can’t even look at him directly.

“This is such a good look for you,” David says, and kneels up onto the mattress. He’s not the most graceful of creatures except in moments like these, when he’s sinuous, all dark hair and dark eyes and moving a little bit like a jungle cat. Patrick feels like _prey_ and it’s the most intense and gorgeous feeling. He groans and makes grabby hands and David shoves his big shoulders under Patrick’s thighs and ducks his head down and sucks Patrick down to the root, and Patrick’s back arches and the sound he makes is inhuman, loud and shaking and _wild_.

“ _No_ ,” he wails, shoving at David’s head, fingers knotting in his hair. “No, I don’t want to come yet, David, _please_.”

“You’re too close,” David says, nosing down the steel bar that is Patrick’s cock. “Trust me, ok? Remember what we talked about. You have to come, honey, take some of the edge off.”

“I do trust you, but, but what if I can’t come later,” Patrick says, head thrown back, and David smiles and kisses the head of his cock once before sucking him back down.

The orgasm that’s punched out of him shakes him to the ground. He hears himself making noises but David is so good at this, he’s so good, and he sucks and sucks until Patrick whines and then he gentles him, licking all around the head. He almost can’t bear to look down, to see the length of David’s body spread out along the bed, that strong back and that _ass_ , clenching slowly as David thrusts against the sheets, like he can’t help himself, like Patrick has turned him on so much that he needs the relief. He focuses instead on the pale skin of his own thighs around David’s neck, the scrape of David’s beard against that sensitive skin, and David’s eyes, so bright with mischief.

David opens his mouth and shows Patrick the come on his tongue, because his boyfriend is a _menace_. Patrick moans weakly and David leans up to kiss him, folding Patrick nearly in half to share his treat. He licks into David’s mouth, chasing the bitter flavor, because Patrick loves come, _he loves it_ even when it’s his own.

“There we go,” he murmurs into Patrick’s mouth, his hands running down the length of Patrick’s thighs to his ass. “There we go. Doesn’t that feel better?”

He groans, eyes clenched shut. His cock is still hard, even though it’s softened a bit, but yeah, David was right. Patrick will be able to come again. He can feel it, the tension in the core of his body, the need itching low in his gut, sated for a moment but still burning bright. Patrick is still learning his body, even after all this time, and he’s learned to trust David because somehow he always knows when Patrick can go again, he always knows how far they can push it and when to ease back. Patrick has never been so grateful for David’s experience, for his intuition about these things, for the way David takes him by the metaphorical hand and makes him feel so seen, and so known.

David is smiling up at him, licking softly along the crease of Patrick’s thigh, which is an erogenous zone Patrick didn’t even know he had before he met David. He twitches and snorts out a laugh, and David laughs too, kissing up Patrick’s stomach to his belly button. “So, is it safe to say that lingerie is going to be a regular part of our sex life?”

“They’re lace panties,” Patrick says, slapping a hand over his eyes because David is still gently thrusting against the bed and he can’t take it. “David, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“I was _not_ expecting this reaction,” David murmurs, dipping his tongue into Patrick’s belly button. He jumps like it’s directly connected to his dick, and David grins, nipping up, up, up to his nipple, which he laves with the flat of his tongue. “It’s really hot.”

“ _You’re_ really hot.” Patrick’s leg slips down off David’s shoulder and David just pushes it back up, folding Patrick nearly in half. Patrick is smaller than David so even this position isn’t enough to bring David’s cock into the equation, and Patrick grabs at David’s shoulders, trying to pull him up. “Let’s forget about Tomo.”

“How about we don’t,” David says, teasing the tip of his nipple with his tongue. “You told me you wanted it, remember?”

“That was a Patrick who didn’t know that his boyfriend was wearing lace panties. A less enlightened Patrick.”

“This is why we have The Conversation,” David says, nipping up, up, up to Patrick’s throat, and oh, his hips are feeling it now, being squished in half like this, and his ass feels open and exposed, and Patrick could happily live here for the rest of his days. David’s smiling into their kiss, but that wicked smile like he can’t help himself, and Patrick doesn’t know why until David thrusts, so gently, along the furl of Patrick’s hole.

He jumps a mile and David _laughs_ like the shit he is, because the lace of the panties against the hyper-sensitive skin of his hole feels like nothing Patrick has ever experienced before. His back jerks up into a curve and he shudders so hard he has to grab onto David’s arm or else he’s going to blow away in the wind.

“I can’t believe how responsive you are,” David murmurs into his throat. “You’re so gorgeous like this. You were made to be fucked.”

“Yes,” Patrick breathes because it’s true, it’s true, he _was_. How did he live so long without this? “Are you going to fuck me now?”

“Not yet,” and David props his elbows up on either side of Patrick’s sides, pressing him down deep into the mattress until Patrick feels enveloped and choked up and held and _taken_. He’s folded up like an accordion and he couldn’t move if he wanted to. He’s never felt so safe in all his life. “Let’s check in, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

David runs his fingers gently, so gently, through Patrick’s hair. “Do you still want to try a prostate massage?”

He wants to get _fucked_ , but, but. He also wants to try the lube, and the dildo, because David knows what he’s doing. “Yes. I trust you to make me feel good.”

How his boyfriend can be wearing panties and still look that shy and sweet is a mystery. “Okay. I’m going to make you feel _so_ good, Patrick. It’s going to blow you away.”

“That,” Patrick says, and knots his fingers in David’s hair and tugs him up to his mouth because kissing David is lifeblood, his reason for getting up in the morning.

Tomo is stuck in the blankets, and the lube fell on the floor, and they untangle for just a moment. It can’t be more than a minute, but Patrick is desperate by the time David sinks back onto the mattress, covers him back up again. He’s so _ready_ , and David is smiling as he uncaps the lube, twisting the top off the little glass bottle with reverence. “I forgot to tell you a thing,” David says, and gently tips the lube over the middle of Patrick’s chest. “This lube gets a little warm when you use it. Just enough to make you feel it. Is that something you want?”

“Oh yeah, my Lubriderm does the same thing,” Patrick says, just to watch David’s face twist into utter horror. He’s laughing so hard he doesn’t realize David’s going in with two right off the bat until they’re already in him, and _ohhh_ , oh my. “Oh,” he says again, choking on his giggles, because that – that – “That is very slippery.”

“The slipperiest,” David says, and Christ, his fingers are big. The Lube Will Keep Us Together is _perfect_ , so slick and light and good, and David can sink his fingers in deep and Patrick can _take_ them even if his muscles are still catching up. They spread him right out, those fingers, the knot of his knuckles working against the sensitive rim of Patrick’s hole. David is a prostate magician because he knows exactly how to glance his fingers over it, how to tap so gently around it, how to stroke. It feels a little bit like he’s going to piss, at least at first, but his cock is firming up again. His balls are _aching_ and David scoops them up in his hand, massaging them so, so gently because he knows, _he understands_.

Patrick covers his eyes with a hand again, laughing, and says, “Oh my God, David.”

“I know, right?” and Patrick lifts his hand up to see David’s grin. “How does that feel?”

“Like you’ve got two fingers in my ass and you’re stroking my prostate.”

“That I do,” David hums, rewarding him by curling his fingers up and nearly making Patrick levitate off the bed. “Still feeling like you’ve got to pee?”

“It’s starting to go away,” Patrick gasps, twisting his hips into David’s stroke. It’s intense, just shy of painful, and feels so good he wants to live here forever. “My balls are sore.”

“Mm-hm,” David murmurs, and leans down to kiss them, softly, so softly. His beard hurts, and Patrick shudders into it because it also feels _amazing_. “That’s because we’re asking them to run a marathon, when they’re used to sprints.”

“What is this, the Ass Olympics?” Patrick asks, just to be a shit, and because he knows it’ll make David laugh.

“You have no idea what this is going to be in a minute, so Ass Olympics is correct.”

His boyfriend squirms his way down the bed again until he’s snug between Patrick’s thighs, and kisses his way from his balls down, down, between his cheeks. Patrick _loves_ rimming, a thing he didn’t think he could ever even say let alone experience without dying from embarrassment, so he’s expecting David’s tongue, there on the edge of the fingers inside of him.

That is not what happens.

“This is going to feel weird at first, but just trust me, okay?”

“I trust you,” Patrick says, and then David touches his taint with his thumb and _presses_ and his thighs come down and clamp around David’s ears. “ _Fuck_!” he cries, and Patrick expects David to laugh because Patrick can’t unlace his legs no matter how hard he tries, but instead one of David's large hands soothes over his thighs, up his hip, across his belly and then down over his jerking cock. David is _everywhere_ , the smell of his skin and sweat intoxicating, and his _smile_ when he looks up at Patrick almost makes him cry. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t _have_ to. David lean's up, straining for just a second, and kisses his gasping, panting mouth with the softest and sweetest of touches. There is so much love caught behind his dark eyes, and his pleasure in giving Patrick pleasure is so enormous it fills Patrick up until he’s overflowing.

David strokes his prostate from the inside and does something on the outside that puts pressure on that little spot, and when Patrick cries out he ducks his head down, nosing his way down to Patrick’s cock. The need to pee comes back, threefold, but then David is licking the head of his cock and it starts to fade, replaced instead with the most intense, heady pleasure he’s ever felt in his life. David is undulating his fingers, a steady ebb and flow of pressure against his prostate, in counterpart to the ebb and flow of pressure on the outside. Patrick’s cock blurts ribbons of precome like he never has before in his life, coating his belly, and David is licking it up and Patrick looks down between his legs and sees David’s ass rise and fall as he thrusts against the bed, and the panties, Jesus fucking Christ, _the panties._

Patrick’s hips jerk up off the bed and he knows instantly that he’s going to come _he’sgoingtocome_ , and David pulls his fingers from his ass and no, _no_ , but then there’s something hard and plastic and it’s the dildo, it’s the dildo and David presses it into him and says, “Clench down, Patrick,” and the dildo hits him dead-center in the middle of that spot and the outside wing presses on his taint and then David does something and Tomo starts to buzz and Patrick _shouts._

David is kissing him and every time he clenches down on Tomo it gets stronger and stronger, this feeling inside him counterpoint to the pulsing on his taint, and the buzzing is so loud and Patrick’s eyes roll back and the orgasm punches through him like a fist to the gut. The world goes dark and black around the edges and then David chokes out, “Oh my God,” and the buzzing is gone, he’s so _empty_. David lifts Patrick’s hips and drives his cock into his ass with one stroke, and he’s wearing the panties, _oh God,_ David is wearing them just like Patrick asked for, pushed down just enough and his huge cock is in Patrick’s ass, and he still feels the phantom buzzing and the muscles of his ass are fluttering around David’s dick like they don’t know what to do, and the sensation is so good, so incredible, that Patrick starts to sob.

David takes hold of Patrick’s cock because it’s rock hard, he hasn’t come, _he has no idea what’s happening_ but then David is stroking him hard and fast and fucking him with such force that the headboard is slamming against the wall and Patrick’s hips buck and he comes like he’s never come before in his life. Every muscle in his body locks and he _screams_ , the violence of his pleasure so overwhelming that he loses control of his body, jerking and writhing and pinned on the end of David’s cock, taking it, taking it, unable to move into it or away from it, and utterly consumed by how good it feels. David’s got him, David’s _got_ him, and he’s talking, he’s saying, “Clench down again honey, _hard_ ,” and when Patrick does the intensity of the pleasure that pulses through him pushes him the rest of the way into the black clouding the corners of his vision.

He’s only gone for a second, just a second, and when he opens his eyes again David is fucking him so hard that he’s pushing Patrick up the bed, and he’s making the most beautiful, throaty noise Patrick has ever heard him utter, and Patrick gets to watch, from up-front and center, as David comes. His gorgeous face twists ugly into ecstasy and he thrusts his cock as deeply into Patrick as he can, grinding into the pleasure Patrick gives him with his body, the tightness of his ass. The thought makes him cry out and he squeezes again, weakly, and David _groans_ and rolls his hips once, twice, three times, before slumping down onto him.

“Shh,” David is gasping, because Patrick is making really awful, embarrassing little sounds. “Shh, honey, it’s okay, hold on,” and he grabs hold of the condom and pulls out. An aftershock bolts through him when David’s softening cock brushes his prostate and Patrick shudders, says, “ _No_ ,” and David is pressing a thousand kisses to his face and murmuring, “I can’t stay in your ass forever,” and Patrick whimpers, “Who says,” and David is panting and laughing at the same time as he gets up to deal with the condom.

David’s only gone for a second, and when he comes back he shimmies out of the panties and crawls back up the bed, rubbing feeling back into Patrick’s legs and thighs before ducking down to lick, so gently, along his swollen and puffy hole. Patrick jumps a mile and tries to kick him but David catches his leg easily, because David _always_ checks to make sure he’s okay when they’ve been too rough and passionate with each other. The state of his ass must appease him, because he crawls back up the bed and collapses half on top of Patrick and half off, his softening cock a wet smear against Patrick’s hip. “You did good, Patrick, so good,” he says, panting, manhandling Patrick into his arms until they’re sharing a pillow, arms and legs all twined together. He tugs the sheets up over them both, though Patrick whines just a little because he’s so hot right now, drenched in sweat and covered in come. They have to shower, and get the other bed turned down, but for now it’s enough. “How do you feel? Did you like it?”

He croaks, “David,” and his voice is an absolute _wreck_. His ass is tingling, low, slow pulses of pleasure still tingling down his thighs, across his taint. “David, _oh my God_. What – what was that?”

“Prostate orgasm,” David says, running his fingers up over Patrick’s arm, his neck, rubbing feeling back into his muscles where he was folded up. He is a _mess,_ drenched in sweat and his hair every which way from Patrick’s fingers. He looks so well-fucked, so satisfied, pleasure like sunlight brightening his gorgeous face. Softening that so-loved mouth. “I had a suspicion you’d be able to have one. Not everyone can.”

“I orgasmed. From my _ass_.”

David laughs out loud and it’s the best sound Patrick has ever heard _in his entire life_. “You did.”

“It was _amazing_.”

“It feels pretty great. I love that you got to experience that. I love that I got to give that to you,” David says, still smiling, and Patrick wishes he could photograph the warmth and affection on David’s perfect face and keep it forever.

“Thank you,” he says, turning to face David. They’re covered in come, and sweat, but David just pulls him in close, as close as he can get.

“For what?”

“For making me feel so good. For being so good to me.”

Tenderness comes over David’s expression in a wave, and Patrick knows, in that moment, that David loves him, and that when he puts himself out there, David is going to meet him halfway. David cups the side of his face, thumb so gentle at the corner of Patrick’s mouth. When he whispers, “I’ll always be good to you, Patrick. Always,” Patrick hears the promise in it.

And then David wraps him up in a hug so tight, so perfect, that tears spring back up in Patrick’s eyes. He burrows down into David’s arms and lets himself be held by this man, this beautiful man who found Patrick when Patrick had no idea he was wandering lost in the dark.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ he thinks, and presses a kiss there to the curve of David’s throat, then another, and then one more.

 _Tomorrow_ , he promises himself. It’s time. They’re ready.

He’s going to say it tomorrow.


End file.
